


Fit My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme)

by Smoakin_dontburnyourself



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Drabble, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoakin_dontburnyourself/pseuds/Smoakin_dontburnyourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Collection of Drabbles written from Tumblr prompts, placed here for easier access, written to get me through the Hiatus. Drop me a prompt some time on Tumblr (Hisgirlfelicity) !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Tope: WIndow Love

**:Remember Me:**

It was an everyday occurrence since he could remember, without fail he saw her through the streaked window of his favorite little cafe in that cozy corner of Starling city. Sometimes she walked faster than other days on her color coordinated heels, and he always wondered where exactly she was rushing off to. Her ponytail swung enthusiastically behind her, the golden tones catching in the sunlight of the early morning.There was a light that radiated off her in incandescent beams, so bright among the sea of black and white that crowded the sidewalks of the city, her colorful skirts and blouses glowing stars in a sky of dull gray.

 

He saw lots of people walking about the street in that booth he sat in every morning, but none like her, not remotely. She walked with a purpose, her shorts steps hitting the pavement with direction and function, with an assurance he could only ever hope for. He sat there, sipping his black coffee, tracing the smears on the glass with uninterested eyes until a ray of sunshine caught his eye, and it always did, at 8 A.M sharp.

 

She would occasionally be carrying a travel mug that somehow matched perfectly with her dress of the day, her bright nails wrapped around the cup, sipping on it while she walked through the brimful walkways. Other days it was a tablet that occupied her attention, walking slower so to not trip over herself, bumping into the occasional stranger and apologizing with a genuine smile that he was sure astounded the receiver, like staring up directly into the sun might have. Even on those days, that she carried a gadget in her coffeeless palm, she never went in, the soft hum of the bell that hung loosely over the door never announced her presence, always someone else, someone he didn’t know.

 

He watched her, among daydreams and confusion he was sure of that, everyday, a smile for a smile every morning, a glance that whispered so many things he couldn’t quite grasp, that he felt so close to him, to where his heart beat hurriedly in his chest, yet so, so very far from his reach. The smile she sent him through the window of that cafe was mesmerizing, intriguing, so fucking _intriguing_ it made his bones ache. Every aspect of that blindingly bright woman that smiled at him every morning was intriguing, he spent his nights awake, staring at his cracked ceiling, frustrated by his inability to just know, to just be sure, to see himself somewhere, anywhere but there, alone.

Every minute of every day was spent pondering the wishful note on the unconditional spread of the glossy sparkle of her lips. Some nights he got drunk on whiskey and black coffee, relentlessly rolling the longing quality of her gaze around in his flashing thoughts until he was dizzy, blotches of pinks and yellows spotting on the back of his eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colors in his dark, confused head.

 

Yeah, you could call her enthralling, and you’d even fall short. You could call him insane too, and you’s also be right, because he saw things, saw her, pictures too vivid to be fantasies, too real to be fragments of his broken imagination. Of her flaxen tresses sprawled over pale sheets, of the tinge of bright pink that spread a trail over her cheeks and down her neck, of her mouth, so sweet he could feel the candied jolt on his tongue. The memories flooded through him faithfully, every morning more, with a force that knocked the air right out of his lungs.

Hypnotized, his eyes, they searched her out, every breath he took was punctuated by his seeking eyes, they looked through the colorless crowds he frequented aimlessly, unwilling to part with her brightness until she was gone, rooted in that tattered cafe until she disappeared around the corner of an old brick building. Sometimes he remembered her laughter in the breeze that stung at his cheeks, that fluttered the lapels of his coat as he walked alone, lonely through destinationless paths. And then other times, all he saw was pain, a feeling of impotence strong and steady, that etched painfully at his tired heart.

 

He always thought of her then, of the soft sway of her tied up hair, of her bright lips, of the glossy frames of her glasses, and somehow, through his pain, he saw light, he saw hope. Those were the nights when he felt more found than he did lost, where the dreams, the memories flowed freely, where he saw her laughing up at him, painting over endless coats of vivid nail polish

 

and he couldn’t quite shake the idea, the thought that maybe she was his something......that maybe she was his happiness, the happy story he’d searched for in his memories for what seemed like an eternity.

 

He saw it then, the dam broke and he saw everything, in absolute and complete color, in a way he never imagined possible. He saw _everything_ , the way she pouted when there was no more  mint chocolate chip ice cream left in the freezer, how she curled her lip when she concentrated enough on the tech stuff that he could never quite understand, no matter how many times she explained it. He saw how bright her gaze was when she saw him, _just him_ walking up towards her, and in that instant it was all he’d been waiting for- and he’d waited, my god he’d waited, and he’d wait a million years more if it meant feeling the utter and the all consuming love that made his heart quiver in his chest.

 

And he’d be damned if he hadn’t surrendered himself completely, a dangerous feat, he realized, for a guy as lost as he was. But he was tired, tired of feeling stuck, of holding back for the sake of something as useless as safety, as sanity.  

 

But then he knew, every kiss that flew behind his closed eyelids a turning page in his dismal novel, every touch that came back to him a sweet phrase, every brush of her lips a promise. He knew, he knew, _he knew_ , she was his, he was hers, and nothing else seemed to matter.    

 

She was his _Felicity_  

 

He knew the look in his eye was different the next morning, he could only imagine how see-through the knowing stretch of his lips was that time around, probably as transparent as the window that stood between them.

 

She didn’t walk past him that morning, didn’t rush off to the unknown place behind the crumbling brick building. Instead, he watched her eyes brighten with understanding, with something else that filled him with hope, with longing. He stared as she took careful steps towards the polished glass, her blue eyes never straying from his, her tentative smile unwavering on her lips, a bright fuchsia color that morning.

 

He saw something in her eyes, the fragile timbre of them only making him that much stronger.

 

He stood to place his hand right over where hers would be on the other side of the window, the lines of her palm aligning with his. He could feel her warmth seep through the glass, could hear the soft sigh even confined behind the teasing barrier. Her forehead landed tenderly on the cool surface, a glistening tear carving its path past her flushed cheeks, and when he placed his forehead there too, he knew he was home.

 

“You remember” It was a whisper, a plea, a prayer said through trembling lips.  

_He remembered_   

 


	2. Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was beside his job and his business, he was here to convince her family that they were a happy, loving couple, it was his brain’s stupid fault if he’d been a little too convincing and had ended up falling for it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU Oliver is a Hooker..... more like classy male escort :)

The room was completely dark, his eyes fixed restlessly on the ceiling, his tired gaze tracing over the cracks in the eggshell paint. He let himself peek over at the vacant spot beside him, the bedding was smooth, unslept on and he found himself missing the heat that radiated off her, the way she, despite the barrier of pillows she placed between them, would gravitate towards his side, legs tangling with his in a web of warmth, smooth blonde hair tickling his chest as she settled her cheek against his shoulder.  

The clench of his jaw tightened at the sudden realization that he couldn’t even get a minute of sleep without the blonde IT whizz quietly snoring (and occasionally drooling) beside him and what the  _fuck_  was he doing? She was just another woman, beautiful of course, so much so that he’d started to wonder why she even needed to pay someone to date her, those big bright eyes and soft smile would be enough to drive a hot blooded male insane.

Beautiful or otherwise, he’d escorted plenty of women before and actually slept better when they were long gone, like a baby, he would say, his money placed neatly on the nightstand, his own little inside joke.

So what in hell was happening? She told him she would be at her friends bachelor party, so what if she met some guy at the bar and decided to go home with him? she’d told Oliver loud and clear the she wouldn’t be needing any of his _other services,_  “Morally repugnant” were her exact words, if his memory serves him.  So what if she was out there getting laid by some stranger? That was beside his job and his business, he was here to convince her family that they were a happy, loving couple, it was his brain’s stupid fault if he’d been a little too convincing and had ended up falling for it himself.

He grabbed a pillow from the stack that would usually form the wall between them on her small twin sized mattress and brought it right over his face, working as a blindfold and forcing his eyes to close.

It wasn’t long before he was woken by a soft hand searching for his, her fingers tracing over the soft contours of his forearm, whispering over his knuckles. His eyes drifted open, immediately meeting with a set of big blue eyes that glowed, even in the shadows of her childhood room.      

"Felicity what-"

She shook her head and there was something almost predatory about the smile that stretched over her lips.

He watched helplessly as the fingers that had been tracing over his hand began ghosting over her collarbone, dangerously close to where the tie of her blouse rested undisturbed, the silky material wound tightly into a bow.

He watched, mesmerized as the tie came easily undone, the item of clothing falling soundlessly and unceremoniously onto the carpet. Her skirt followed soon after, the material that had hugged her hips so perfectly now a shapeless puddle on the floor.

He realized at that moment that he’d formed some sort of picture in his head of what she would look like under those form fitting dresses she usually favored. At that exact same moment he also realized how lacking his imagination had been. His eyes took all they could get in the lightless room, greedily raking over the little lace panties that hugged her hips snugly, the matching bra that molded to the soft curve of her breasts, the wild mass of curls that had been freed from her usual ponytail falling loosely over her shoulders.

He watched her hand tease over the clasp of her bra and before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was in her space, feeling her breath, tingling with the scent of wine and something stronger, washing over his face in soft, easy puffs. At the same time he let his hands find her hips he wondered where his Felicity was, mouth babbling 100 miles per hour, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the sexual innuendos he’d jokingly told her he wouldn’t charge her for, big blue eyes seeing right through his hooker facade. He wondered if she was buried in deep within this Felicity that was currently placing open mouthed kisses on his jaw, wondered if she’d wanted this as much as him since the first time they’d met on the plane with her childhood home in Vegas as the destination.

When the woman that looked so much like Felicity finally pushed him back onto the bed, working her way slowly up his body with a seductive look in her eyes, he decided to leave the thinking for the morning and just feel. Feel the way her lips moved maddeningly slow under his, how the legs he’d been missing settled on either side of his hips, how carefully, without haste she pulled his boxers out of the way, how wet her mouth felt on the planes of his chest.

She didn’t say a word, her soft sighs and muffled moans were the only sounds that filled his ears, that intoxicated his senses and pushed out any thoughts of what this might mean for him, for them. He just let her move slowly from over top him, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, her eyes latched onto his, refusing to look away, before rolling them over, pinning her with his strong arms, ravaging her without remorse, without a drop of reason. He let her drift off after, choking down his questions, letting her snuggle up close, finally feeling at peace with her body warm beside his.

——-

His heart was beating fast as he approached their room the next morning, breakfast tray in hand, going over all the things he wanted to tell her,  _I’ve never met someone like you, last night was amazing, I Lov-_

the door swung open then, breaking his concentration and revealing the soft woman that had been in his dreams and in his bed the night before. 

“Hey” she said, a smile on her lips but her hand on her head, rubbing soothing circles over her temples.

“Hey” he answered back, opening his mouth to say something else, only to close it when she grabbed his hand and sat him on the bed, worried eyes searching his face.

“Hey” she murmured again “what happened last night?” she asked, eyeing his underwear that she obviously didn’t recall flinging across the room in the heat of the moment, teeth worrying at the bottom of her lip, so differently than they had the night before.

His face fell for a second as he processed the fact that she didn’t remember, that the passion with which they had loved each other had been lost to her, only fleeting in her memories, before his smile dimmed back into his practiced business smirk, walls built securely back over his heart.

“Nothing”

“Nothing?” she asked suspiciously “I mean I was pretty drunk so I’m kind of in the dark here, I was hoping you could tell me why I woke up and found our clothes thrown around the room-”

“Nothing happened” he said, a little louder, the words sounding painfully strained “you just got too lazy to find pajamas after undressing” he shrugged, adding with a harsher tone “and it’s not really in my job description to babysit you when you get hammered”

“right” she muttered, cheeks reddening at the thought of him seeing her undressed, oblivious to the fact that he’d done more than see her naked

“I brought you breakfast” he said under his breath, already halfway to the door, needing to be anywhere but there.

“thanks” she said quietly, the syllable drowned out by the emptiness of the room.

——    

When he reentered the room he could hear the spray of the shower and her soft humming from behind the bathroom door. He was looking for his socks when he saw the envelope, hundreds of bills spilling over the folded edges of the package.

He strode over to the bathroom and swung the door open, his hand reaching to pull the shower curtain away in an angry swipe. She shrieked, her arms flying to cover her breasts.

“Oliver, wha-”

“Is this for last night?” he asked accusingly, waving the bills in her face, only half registering the fact that she was so very naked- and wet.

“W-What?” she stuttered, the spray still pounding water over her head

“I thought I  _told you_  Felicity-” he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his hooker smile plastered almost painfully on his face “that I would tell you beforehand if I was going to charge you for anything”

“B-but you said nothing happened! I-I just didn’t want you to think I expected anything for free- or anything at all!” she explained quickly, closing her eyes in embarrassment at what she was implying

“You’re 300 short, by the way” he said, eyes narrowed, before turning on his heel to stride out of the room but not before flinging the wad of cash onto the bed in rage, in hurt.

“Wait! Oliver don’t go! I didn’t mean it like that” she was out of the shower, hot on his heel, her voice hoarse with emotion, a towel bunched under her arms, barely covering her dripping body. He turned around slowly, his features masterfully masked

“Felicity” he said, taking a step in her direction “you’re hardly the first” it sounded bitter and strained but she nodded, eyes searching his. He turned away before those eyes could decipher the hurt, the lie in his eyes, because she  _was_  the first, the first and only client he’d ever stupidly fallen in love with.    


	3. Inconspicuous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching Felicity was second nature to him, an instinct, a tendency as ingrained within him as his reflexes were, it just happened, just like a nervous tick might, naturally,like blinking, as necessary as breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Prompt: Could You do a voyeur Oliver or Felicity prompt?...or both?

When it happened, she was wet.

They both were, mother nature deciding that while they waited outside the Gotham city airport for a cab was the best time to send a downpour of angry water that soaked right through their clothing, chilling over Oliver’s skin, drawing a sky-bound smile from Felicity, the drops of precipitation falling over her dark lashes like sparkling jewels, her grin more brilliant than any precious stone he’d ever laid eyes on, and considering who exactly he was, spanish antiquities and all, that was saying something.

She’d informed him through small smiles that it didn’t rain much where she was from when he’d asked.

He couldn’t help but think that rain suited her somehow, the lustrous beads of rainwater carving their glistening paths down her cheeks, fogging up the lenses of her glasses, running down her neck and scurrying past her collarbone.

They danced past the brink of her cream colored blouse, making the material cling to her body like a second skin that had Oliver silently mesmerized, watching gingerly as each drop of water grew bolder, their path  _longer_ ,  _clearer_  through the nearly transparent fabric.   

Watching Felicity was second nature to him, an instinct, a tendency as ingrained within him as his reflexes were, it just happened, just like a nervous tick might, naturally,like blinking, as necessary as breathing. So maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised that the sight of Felicity, through the crack of her door that had been left slightly ajar in their adjoined hotel room, would be as enticing as it was.

The view was arresting, her golden tussles of hair falling loosely over her shoulders, the sopping blouse caressing the slope of her arms, kissing its way down the limbs before she let it fall into a shapeless puddle at her bare feet.

He was grounded at his inconspicuous spot behind the skewed door, helpless to the sight of her skirt grazing the smooth expanse of the back of her thighs, down her delicate calves, down further onto the hardwood floor, exposing the taut muscles of her behind, a barely there scrap of material stretched tightly over her shapely ass.

His sanity faltered, watching the weaved pattern mold exquisitely over her faultless behind, testing his self control 

He saw the shutter that shook her body once her damp skin was licked by the cool air that swirled past the vents, pulled into her unforgiving gravity, falling over her lace covered breasts in teasing puffs, enticing a series of ambrosial tremors to sway her small frame.

She seemed to take no mind to her surroundings, to the familiar blue eyes that followed her every movement, hypnotized by the small sighs her pink lips delivered. He licked his own, feeling them suddenly dry, parting them in something a lot like lust when she did the same, her bubblegum tongue darting out to sweep over the seam of her mouth, so in tune with him that it physically hurt.

he gasped as he felt every drop of his heated blood rush below his rapidly beating heart, the fist sized organ serving solely to wholeheartedly circulate the crimson liquid efficiently into his hard member, every self imposed touch  _further_ , every tremble of her lips _more_.  

The wrongness behind his voyeurism never registered in his white lace dazed mind. There was something about Felicity Smoak that begged his eyes to stay, imploring they not leave the ridges of her spine, the crevices of her clavicle, the fissures of her lower back, least they miss the fascinating way her body moved when she thought no one was watching.


	4. Definitely Not Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here, Queen?”
> 
> “That’s classified” he said, only because he knew it annoyed her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Agents AU

She watched her target carefully from behind the rim of her wine glass, following his path through the club and sizing up his security while remaining unnoticed, undercover as another tipsy party girl. The glittered hem of her dress had been itching on her thighs the entire night and her shoes, however fabulous, were probably leaving bloodstains at how much they were killing her feet. The club was dark, smokey, and reeked of alcohol, but she forced her eyes to stay trained on the target, fixing on where he settled himself in the VIP section of the club.    

She watched him try to pick up a redhead at the bar, then a brunette and then another redhead, thinking that it was too bad she wasn’t his type. She almost snorted under her breath as she twirled a golden curl on her finger, musing on her other assets that men found awfully hard to ignore, some that included a taser and a mean right hook, oh and her favorite had to be her FBI badge, that really seemed to turn sleezy criminals on for some reason.

She watched as Blood leaned over the counter, flashing his prospective conquest a charming smile that was mildly creepy at best. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, gosh the man really could not take  _No_  for an answer, she had a feeling she would enjoy bringing this one in.

She pushed a button on the com that was inconspicuously placed in her ear, informing Diggle of the information she had gathered

“Only three goons” she whispered, mouth barely moving with her words

“ _The guys got no game_ ” he laughed, telling her to get out of there before she drew any attention to herself

“He’s nothing if not insistent” she snickered, signing off the com to turn towards the club’s exit and Digg’s van that was waiting for her in an alley three blocks away.

It was the glint of his sunglasses that got her attention in the end, she knew there was only one person ridiculous enough to wear dark glasses in a basically lightless club. She studied him while he entertained two blondes in a small lounge in a dark corner of the club. His hair was cropped short, he wore that grey suit that she liked and even behind those sunglasses, she could feel his eyes on her too.  

She strode over just as he was waving the bimbos away, arms crossed over her chest, looking down onto where he was seated, his arms placed smugly behind his head.

“Took you exactly 50 minutes, you’re getting sloppy Smoak”  his voice was deep, rich with amusement, his tongue clicking as if chastising a child.

“What are you doing here, Queen?”

“That’s classified” he said, only because he knew it annoyed her, grinning as he slid the glasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing his piercing blue eyes. He smirked, eyes openly raking over her tight dress in the way that only his could, that made a shiver run through her spine.

“Well, to be honest, I couldn’t care less. You tell the CIA, and Tommy” she called out, loud enough for the com in his ear to pick up “to stay away from this case, the FBI has been on this guy for months, we’re not going to let some Idiots from the CIA get in the way”

“Ouch” he said, sounding a lot more smug than hurt. He placed the glasses back in their spot and reached into his suit pocket to pull something out. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the emblem on the envelope, it was an invitation to the gala where they would finally pin the sleezeball. She took a deep breath and smiled, the CIA was more deeply involved than she’d anticipated. She maneuvered herself onto the uncomfortable couch, close enough to smell the scent of his signature cologne mixed with the tang of his aftershave.

“Now thats more like it” he hummed, bringing an arm to encircle her waist

“Is there anyway I can convince you to skip that gala tomorrow?” she asked, breathing the words into his ear in the way she knew gave him goosebumps

“Hmmm, and miss you in one of your evening numbers? hardly” he said, his breath hot on her cheek.

His fingers come up to trail over her cheekbone, making her shudder into the whisper of his fingertips brushing over her smooth skin. The phone in her bag vibrated just as she was melting into his touch, causing her to snap out of her daze, all the reasons why she’d been avoiding Special agent Oliver Queen crashing over her in a breathtaking  _swoosh_. She stood abruptly, breathless from the contact, her cheek hot where his fingers had been.

“Stay away from Blood, or the FBI will make you wish you did” her voice shook more than she would have liked but he seemed to get the message.

She made it two steps before his warm calloused hand reached out to grab her elbow, pulling her back into his strong arms.

He pushed her against the wall of a conveniently placed dark hallway in the club, pulling the com roughly out of his ear, throwing the sunglasses haphazardly onto the tiled floor, his mouth moving hungrily over hers, the intoxicating taste of whiskey ingrained on his tongue as he slipped it past her willing lips.

“This is such a bad idea” she gasped, as his lips traveled to bite at the sensitive spot on her neck, making her back arch involuntarily towards him. He ignored her, cutting her off with another searing kiss, a hand cupping her cheek so he could angle her mouth to kiss her again, his hips grinding into her core relentlessly. His hands moved over her thighs, locking over the bend of her knees to pull them around his hips, she compiled, her resolve weakening into a pile of dust.

His hand slipped lower, past her hip, along the glittery hem of her dress. His hips now holding her tightly in place, his hand was left free to roam over soft span of her thighs.

“hmmm” he hummed against the creamy, sweet skin of her neck as his thumb slipped under the band of her lacy underwear. “So sweet” he whispered, dragging his lips across her jaw, from the soft curve of her chin to her temple, and then back again in a maddeningly soft pace as his hands pulled her undergarment out of the way.

Oliver tightened the grip he had over her hip, letting his lost hand find its way back in between her legs, laying his palm solidly against her core and marveling at the breathy moan that puffed through her darkly painted lips.

“So, so sweet” he whispered, then groaned when her hands found the buckle of his belt “but you’re so  _bad_  for business”  

she smirked, leaning forward to plant her lips roughly on his, her fingers bunching the material of his shirt to pull him impossibly closer.   

“you’re not exactly protocol yourself”   


	5. Last Night [PART 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA The Wedding date AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: " *mumbles quietly* could you keep on going with that Oliver is a hooker prompt?"

Her breathing was steady, rhythmic in the quietly dark room, he could feel her warm hand a whisper away from his, from crossing into unchartered territory, across the imaginary barrier she had forgone setting between them that night.

He knew she wasn’t sleeping, her breathing faltered here and there, betraying her cautiousness, leaving him wondering what she saw on the darkened ceiling above them. Maybe she saw those gadgets she always talked about outlined on the smooth finishing, or those fruit cakes she loved so much (even if she picked the blueberries off the top). The thought of it almost made him laugh out loud, but the universe settled for a soft chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest.

“What?”

She turned her head in his direction and from his peripheral vision, he could see her lips that had been scrubbed clean of their bright fuchsia color much closer than he’d anticipated, far too close for his eyes not to trace over their outline, over the seam of her plump lower lip.  

“whats so funny?” she asked, already laughing, her smile glowing in the moonlight room

“Nothing”

she was quiet for a second before blowing out a puff of air to displace a strand of golden hair off her face, her chest rising and falling from under the pale blue covers.

"You’re a man of very few words, Oliver Queen" she decided, turning under the bedding and placing her head on her hands, bright blue eyes staring right at him, right through him

He didn’t say anything, he imagined that even if a thought had formed in his dazed mind the moment he turned and her eyes locked with his, his throat would have been too busy keeping his heart at bay to vocalize it.

“You know, I’ve been spilling my guts to you this whole weekend, and I don’t know anything about you” It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways, more thoughtfully than he probably should have

“I hate the color green…I took archery lessons in college…I majored in business management in school, I hate the taste of Brussels sprouts” he wrinkled his nose at the thought of the green monstrosities and let his eyes falter from the roof and over to where she had shifted onto her back again, her eyes also on the ceiling, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

he took a breath, the sincerity of his confessions still warming the air around them “I think I’d miss you, even if we never met” his hand slid down into the warm palm of her soft grasp, intertwining his fingers with hers, finding a peculiar serenity in the sensation of her hand surrounding his. She took his hand wholeheartedly, running her fingertips over his open palm before engulfing it in heat, the unique ridges and lines of her hand colliding with his.

“You’re not going to tell people I dye my hair right?”

he laughed.

                                         

* * *

 

She saw it through the blur of her tears, the white of the envelope stark against the dark wooden nightstand. She knew what It was, what it meant, but she cradled it in her palms anyways.

 _It’s all there_   it read across the folds of the envelope, his neat handwriting embedded on the paper. She smiled despite the circumstances, at discovering something new about him, studying the curve of his e’s, the slope of his l’s. It was pathetic, really, but she was mesmerized all the same. She ran her fingers over the letters, somehow feeling the warmth of his hand instead of the cool paper.

She knew it was naive of her to think that she was something other than business to him, she’d pain six thousand dollars for a huge lie, a damn good lie that she ended up falling for. But who could blame her? It had all felt so real… so  _right_

The green bills stared at her from inside the package, all the money in tact, sparking a flame of hope that maybe it meant something more.

"Oliver" she sighed, regretting all that she’d said, their fight, thinking it was stupid, thinking that she loved him.

"Felicity" she heard from behind her, turning and blinking rapidly to clear her eyes of their mist. He was panting, his sandy hair plastered on his head, beads of precipitation dripping down the slope of his nose. His dark shirt clung to his chest and she absentmindedly wondered when it’d started raining.

He took a step forward, then another one, one more, until he was right there with her, his hand coming up to trace the path of her tears down her mascara stained cheeks.

He reached over to enclose her hand with his, slowly taking the envelope out of her hand and placing it back onto the nightstand

"Oliver I.. I’m sorry we fought, I-" he shook his head and smiled, searching her face and finding something he’d lost long ago in her kind eyes… maybe it was hope? maybe it was purpose 

"Felicity Megan Smoak" he brought her hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on her wrist, his eyes enlaced with hers, blue on blue, love on love

"I would rather fight with you, laugh with you, lay with you, than make love to anyone else"

and that time when he smiled, she was sure it was real.   

 


End file.
